Two Sides of the Same Coin-Tails

Hello hello! Thank you for returning, it is blog day again! My apologies for slacking last week , I wasn’t satisfied with the entry by the time Thursday rolled around (I also got older just the day before), and I had drafted and rewrote this entry many times. I’m hoping this go around I’ll be able to better condense the thoughts I have in relation to this subject… my previous drafts were turning into novels. “Extracting the Essence” or boiling down a lifetime of depression and its lasting impressions was a lot more work than I thought. Once again, I’m starting over. There’s much to be said, and I want to write without overindulging and losing the point in a sea of words, off on a rambling tangent. I’m not trying to tell you my life story, I promise hahaha. 

Last entry gave me a great sense of release. Drafting, editing, and finally posting the sum of the deep dive, opened up my perception to what I’ve looked passed over the years. The chance to examine and pick apart the ways these extremes function and how they can take over, offers me useful insight. Insight I hope to use to steer me out of madness when I’m lost and surrounded. It’s what I hope to discover while exploring this side of the coin, a way to make out the shapes in the darkness and a path to wander out… The coin always flips, and at the very edge of the mania, depression lies waiting to consume. 

It’s the story I know best, one that my life has been writing for decades. A story composed of childhood trauma, family dilemmas, and the usual trials of just living and growing up- denial and coping mechanisms had their weight to pile on as well. I was considered highly sensitive as a young child, easily overcome with emotions and very much invested in those emotions (I’m still known to adorn my sleeves with them). The level in which I felt most things on was fairly intense, and it didn’t appear to me that many others had this same experience. I hated being sensitive, but there wasn’t any way to just stop how I felt. Adapting was the best I could do in rough circumstances, and I learned a lot of habits out of survival instincts. 

As a teen the blows caused more long term damage, and often brought longer periods of rest or down time. Turmoil hadn’t decreased by much and I was just at the start of my first existential crisis. My focus was usually locked on to my personal mayhem, and I hardly lived in the world around me. “Fitting in” never appealed to me and I manifested a “weird kid” vibe rather naturally. Stress and chaos felt abundant and had a hand in that “beyond her years” persona I possessed. The whole quest of finding myself seemed leisurely, like something I might do with a random free afternoon While I paint my nails, but not as an approach to everyday life. At that age priorities felt different, I mostly just got by the best I could. Symptoms from my deeper scars came and went and chipped away at confidence, self esteem, and connection. I purposefully isolated myself a lot to avoid addressing the matter. Suddenly I didn’t want to get out of bed, shower, eat, go out, or talk to anyone- I really didn’t like me or even love me for that matter. Hiding is where I felt best, safe to be emotionally unstable and a pitiful mess.  Too much time was wasted trapped in that world of my thoughts, and these occurrences began to shape who I was becoming. It was pivotal that I turned to journaling and poetry during this time. I found this form of expression helpful when weaving through the hoarded thoughts, I felt like I finally had a voice and a mirror; a way to feel heard and a way to seek myself out when I felt unrecognizable. It was my umbrella, and I used it to walk into the eye of the storm. 

Fast forward to adulthood- I’d made a generalization that the persistent struggles in my youth would no longer be troubles as I matured. Somehow I was under this crazy impression that with age I would have a better handle on myself and my life, and that the earlier issues would have surely worked themselves out by now. Oddly, I was shocked at how completely wrong I ended up being, and strangely right at the same time. There had been some work done and improvements that were revealed thru growing up, yet I had underestimated the new responsibilities I faced coupled with the older habits I was doing my best to merely manage. Massive changes were constant, and between work, school, family and my relationship at the time, I had little to no time for much else. Even still, my depression had been reduced to shorter seasonal fits and major life traumas. In comparison to previous years, I was doing exceptionally well, and felt confident in my ability to maneuver this imbalance. It became more often that positive growth and change occurred, and more and more I felt lucid. This felt manageable and was for the most part when I wasn’t in the midst of life’s peaks and valleys, all attacks had a catalyst.

For almost a decade now, my relationship with depression has changed more than it has ever in my life. To shorten a long story, my life had made a 180° switch. New found love, a recent move from NM to TX, essentially a fresh new start! Truly, life was starting to feel pretty darn good. The world I lived in found stability, and I found a beautiful nourishing soul who poured love into me in a way I hadn’t known before. With her I felt at home in so many ways, but my soul felt so torn for reasons I felt I couldn’t explain. Within a year of the move, I had lost both of my grandparents (whom I was very close to) and had trouble coping with some home sickness. I didn’t put much stock into these events because I was getting through them alright, at least for how and who I am. I expected these things would be obvious triggers, but in time I would feel unprovoked lows that left me confused and searching. Life was going far too good to feel so low and the guilt I felt was growing substantially by the day. I’ve been over analyzing the new problem ever since. There’s an inevitable phase that I know will come, but I’m not always certain when (even though I’ve discovered that seasonal depression exists even where there are a lack of seasons). I felt I had started to catch myself on track with this learning curve, and suddenly without warning I’m thrown from the old familiar to a brand new one. This eats me up, in general because I know it can make things difficult for the people close to me, but it also digs deeply at my creativity. I become extra critical of my workflow and progress, and the lack of motivation was so discouraging. Unless I feel validated in my efforts, i.e. art sales, completed projects, etc- I will surely begin to take on the worst artist block, laced with lazy guilt… and I hate it. It’s honestly annoying typing this out and realizing how pathetic it sounds, but it’s just how it goes sometimes. Projects pile up, inspiration runs low, and I make more mistakes out of frustration when I’m forcing myself to push through. Quitting crosses my mind a lot when I feel this way, and it’s only increased with age. Knowing that I’m the one standing in my own way most of the time is the worst part, and I know that it can all change for me if that’s how I choose to will it. 

While I fully intend to take better care of myself and establish the balance I desire, I don’t feel negatively about these dark and low times. There’s something about being on that side of emotion that reveals to you a certain glow to life. You may hear whispers in the wind, make friends with nature, and easily recognize the humanity in the eyes of the strangers around you. Sometimes you write, clean, cook, or create out of some unwearying need to manifest pleasantries for even small moments of satisfaction. It’s through those manifestations that I feel myself surface little by little… it’s like coming up for air, and how needed the fresh breath can be <3 

I open up and tell these stories, because I know there are so many people with lives and stories like mine. Lately life has grown more challenging for a lot of folks, and I hope this entry is enough to remind you that you are never alone. I’m certainly no expert, but I’m an active fighter, and a survivor and I know it can be so hard and it can feel so lonely. Somedays, there isn’t enough strength to fight the battle and there isn’t anything wrong with resting and laying low, but self care and self love is the armor I’ve found to strengthen and protect my spirit when I need it the most. SPOILER ALERT- this is next week’s subject… 

I’ll wrap up saying, if these words resonate, remember to be kind to yourself, and nurture yourself in all the best ways you can think of. Pamper yourself, take in vitamin rich foods/drinks (lots of water!), and consume mentally rich content (fave movies, books, music etc). For myself a little bit of self care stretches quite a ways, and now that I’m done preaching to the choir *wink* I’ve gotta get back to cementing in my routine as well. I appreciate sharing these vulnerable entries, and hope my words can prove valuable in some way to those out there reading them. Whatever you choose to do, remember to take care of you <3 

Sending out so much love. Until next week, take are <3

<3 Miki Len